Spanking Samantha (Chapter 10, prelude to F/F F/F)
Previously on “Spanking Samantha”:
Molly indulges in erotic daydreams, then seeks Mister Perfect in the spanking personals.
Samantha reveals her dirty little secret during another trip to lapland.
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Samantha had finally confessed – to herself, let alone Ginger – that she actually sought occasional severe spankings as emotional release from her passionless life.
So she took it pretty well when she discovered that her sterile prick of a husband had locked her out of the house.
“You guys will work it out,” consoled Ginger.
“I don’t want to. Better off without him.”
“Are you sure? You’ll probably have some rough spots. It might be better not to be alone in some apartment. Why don’t you stay here for a while?”
Samantha was happy for the offer.
“So – I’m confused, Sammie. If Mom was the one who fucked you up… Why did you keep going back to her?”
“I’m not sure, Ginge. ‘Cause she’s the one who’d do it, I guess. I mean, you don’t just ask a stranger to spank you. And besides, I didn’t get it.”
“You mean you didn’t realize you wanted those spankings?”
“Needed them. Not the spankings; the way they made me feel. And I didn’t want to cheat on Bill.”
“Getting spanked isn’t exactly cheating.”
“No, but … it’s pretty close, isn’t it? Showtime!”
“So Mom was “safe”.
“I guess so.”
“Well, no more trips over Mom’s lap for you.”
“Am I grounded?”
“Sam, you don’t want to give Bill any ammunition. It could get nasty. A judge is already gonna think you’re weird if your little kink comes out.”
“It’s not a kink.”
“Your little habit. And if you win the election, you’re fair game for reporters. MOM SPANKS CITY COUNCILWOMAN!”
“Oh, shit.”
“BUDGET CHAIR BARES BOTTOM! Imagine all the wankers out there! PETULANT POL PARKER PADDLED. Grunt grunt grunt. ‘What are you doing, dear?’ ‘Just watching the news.'”
“Okay! You made your point. Besides…”
“Why are you standing there like Betty Boop, Sam?”
“…I’m sure you’ll keep me in line.”
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When they heard about Ellie’s accident, everyone at work chipped in for flowers.
“I hear she’s really banged up. Black eyes, broken nose. Said she slipped in the tub.”
Kim stayed behind after the others left Ellie in her hospital room.
“Well?”
“Kim. You said you wanted a spanking. You got a spanking.”
“Ellie…”
“You said two minutes. I said a few minutes.”
“Look, I don’t know how long a spanking is supposed to last, but…”
“It lasts until the bottom gives in.”
“Well, my bottom gave in after half a minute! Does everyone spank that hard?”
“Some people start slower and build up. I just spank hard. Kim, I didn’t mean YOUR bottom. I meant YOU. The person who’s the top spanks the person who’s the bottom.”
“Oh. Well anyway, two minutes, a few minutes, I asked how much it would hurt…”
“I know. And I said ‘just enough’. Listen: ‘just enough’ is GIVING IN. Yelling ‘STOP STOP LET ME UP’ isn’t giving in. Giving in is … different things … but it’s not just making a fuss and jerking around like a hooked mackerel. You have to accept responsibility, accept the spanker’s authority, and be sincerely sorry for what you’ve done – truly sorry so that you either fix it or don’t do it again. You didn’t know that? I thought you were just being stubborn.”
“I didn’t know what you wanted.”
“People getting spanked always know why. You knew why. Some people just don’t realize it until the pain carries them away and they face the truth. It’s very emotional.”
“I’m sure you know what you’re talking about, Ellie, but that’s not really why I came.”
“You want me to apologize. Okay, look. I’m sorry it wasn’t what you expected or wanted. Maybe next time you’ll know how it works.”
“No, Ellie. I came to apologize to you. I’m sorry I broke your nose. But I’m still not sorry I hit you with the frying pan.”
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Kim drove home angry and confused. She decided to sleep it off.
A week later, she was still conflicted.
She invited Heather for an after-work drink. (“At least I won’t have to stand at the bar now.”)
She knew she was imposing, but you always seem to know the right thing to do, and you’re always so strong, and so on and on.
“Kim, just tell me. What is it?”
Well, it’s kind of embarrassing.
“I figured. You and Ellie tried something that didn’t work out?”
“How did you know?”
“You both called in sick the same day Ginger did. Ginger I understood. But you guys are never out.”
“That’s it?”
“Just an educated guess. I know you’ve been all curious about spankings, and I saw Ellie waiting for the tow truck, and then the broken nose turns up? Come on.”
“I still…”
“Kim, she’s good at this, and you’re … a novice.”
“Good at this?”
“Kim, she’s a domme.”
“A dom…? Oh! Oh gosh! Like she puts on leather and stuff?”
“I don’t know all the details, but … Did you go to her place?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, jeez. Did she show you around?”
“Yeah. It was really nice.”
“Did she show you the basement?”
“No.” And the light switched on. “Oh, God!” The Devil’s den! “So … she just likes to hit people!”
“Or more. People pay her, but it’s not about the money. I’m sure you were quite the morsel. How far did it go?”
Kim told her about the food and the wine and the brandy and the fire. And about “just enough”.
“And then what?”
And then it hurt so much and she wouldn’t stop and I was crying and she yanked my pubies so she could spank me further down…
“Pussy torture?”
“No, don’t talk like that. Do people do that?”
“What else?”
And then and then and then and then I hit her in the face and I smashed her nose and there was blood and I was so angry I couldn’t stop being angry and I pissed all over her.
“Oh, shit! You pissed on her? Jesus, Kim.”
“Am I in trouble?”
“I don’t think she wants to go to the cops. Not if she wants to keep her little side business going.”
And Kim was still angry but not at Ellie at myself because I prayed really really hard for the strength to go forgive her but when we were in the hospital she kinda just said I got what I asked for and I only kind of forgave her and that’s not being a good Christian. I mean me. Is she Christian?
“Because she’s Asian? Yeah, I think so. Well, she should have known better, especially ’cause she’s a pro. She should have made you use a safeword, and she should have known when enough was enough. Based on YOUR side of the story, anyway.
“What, Kim? What’s a safeword? You know, I have half a mind to spank you myself.”
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On the way back to Kim’s apartment, Kim told Heather what Ellie had said about spankings lasting until you “give in”. Heather thought that was bad advice. Every relationship has its own dynamic. Et cetera.
“Ginger said every spanking is different. Even Ellie said that. Are you gonna spank me like you spanked Ginger?”
“No. And I promise it won’t be like Ellie either … What? … Oh, good. You’re learning already.”
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After a week of living with her sister, Ginger was beginning to get annoyed.
It was just the little things.
Well, mostly little things.
Sam was happy to leave the toilet lid up if that’s how Ginger liked it. And sure! If you don’t want wet raincoats in the closet, I ca
n hang them on the rack until tomorrow. I really appreciate you letting me stay here, Ginger. It’s your house, Ginger. You make the rules.
Okay, we just have to get used to each other.
But she didn’t come home in time to cook dinner, even when it was her turn. Twice in a row.
And she left her clothes in the dryer, even though Ginger had asked her not to.
“Sammie, I think we need to make a few rules.”
“Sure.”
“Just to make sure we don’t drive each other crazy.”
“Okay.”
Two nights later, she kept the TV in the living room turned way up even when Ginger was trying to sleep.
“Hey! Turn it down!”
“It’s almost over. Just a few minutes.”
Ginger took the remote from the coffee table and turned the volume down by half. “I’m trying to sleep!”
When Samantha stood to grab away the remote, Ginger gave her a single firm smack on the seat of her jeans. “Keep it down.”
Friday Mrs. Parker came home from a few bourbons, tossed her key ring onto the expensive antique desk in the corner, and scratched the finish.
“Shit, Sam. Look! Be careful.”
“Oops. Sorry.” She went off to the kitchen for something to drink.
“Sorry?” Ginger followed. “This is my stuff here, Sam.”
“It’s just a scratch. You got any cranberry juice?”
“It’s a scratch on a handmade 1880’s desk from Belgium. It took me a long time to pay for that.”
“Jeez, Ginge. I said I’m sorry.”
“Try to be more careful. Especially when you’ve been drinking.”
“Oh, get a life.”
“What did you say?”
“Let go of me … Let GO of me! … What are you doing? … Ginger! …Wait! … Ginger, no! … Wait, I’m sorry …Where are you taking me? … Wait … I shouldn’t have said that …”
Samantha fought her all the way, but Ginger had determination and moral outrage and “It’s my house!” on her side. Plus Samantha was wearing three-inch heels.
“Ginger, I’m a guest.”
“You don’t act like one.”
Ginger yanked open the belt buckle, slapped away a hand, flipped open the waist clasp, stepped across the toe-box of a smashing Italian pump, and tugged down Samantha’s zipper.
“Ginger, no.”
Down came the $300 fine black twill business slacks with the subtle pinstripe and the satin lining.
Two smacks on the size 6 scarlet panties, a few pants-at-the-ankles high-heeled duck waddles over to the couch, and my! my! my! Samantha!
Looks like you’re in for a bare bottom barbecue!
Just as soon as we tumble you over. There!
And peel back these undies.
Comfy?
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Next on “Spanking Samantha”:
Let’s do a practice SAT question. You know, the Spanking Aptitude Test!
Match each lap rider with her tribal name from a famous American movie:
1. Kim Duboisa. Kicks at Ceiling
2. Samantha Parkerb. Cries like Baby
3. Molly Rothc. Squirms with Sorrow
And while we’re on the subject, name the Washington Post sportswriter whose Monday column was headlined “Redskins Spanked!”